Gasping for air
by christikat
Summary: House causes trouble for Wilson ... Written for the third round at sickwilson fest on LJ.


Gasping for air

No lights illuminated their apartment when House entered it, leaving him to wonder where Wilson was. Shrugging his shoulders he dumped the bag containing the Belgian pralines on the coffee table and hobbled over to their bedroom to change his clothes. The downpour had caught him by surprise and the distance from his car to the front door had left him drenched to the bones.

Still puzzling over the whereabouts of Wilson he walked back to the living room, wincing when the first flash of lightning brightened the sky. A deep thunder followed, rooting him to the spot with a queasy feeling pooling in his gut. Hopefully Wilson would come home soon. Surely he had stayed somewhere inside or in a car.

_Shi-it_!

Wilson's car was in the repair shop and House had promised to pick him up after work. But Wilson had been busy talking with a patient when House left. Well, okay, maybe House had simply forgotten to keep his promise. Wilson would be pissed which translated into no sex for the next few days. Wilson was more like a woman in this regard than any actual woman House had ever known. He sighed, there evaporated his brilliant "seduce-James-with-pralines" idea into nothing!

Another bolt accompanied by a loud thunder that rumbled even through House's body caused him to cringe. Wilson _hated_ thunderstorms because they scared him; House had exposed this secret by accident. House's first impulse had been to mock Wilson mercilessly. The words had gotten stuck in his throat when terrified brown eyes had gazed at him. Instead of teasing Wilson, House had ended up with Wilson more or less sitting on his lap, clutching at him tightly. That night established their thunderstorm ritual of House holding a shivering and frightened Wilson.

Maybe House should do something for Wilson before he got home. Somehow he might be able to rescue his seduction-plan …

XXXXX

The thunderstorm blustered on for about an hour before it subsided. In this hour House managed to put clean sheets on the bed, arrange the pralines on a tablet together with a mug and place it in the bathroom. He laid out towels and fresh comfortable clothes for Wilson before he limped back to the kitchen. He was rummaging through the freezer, deciding what to cook when he heard the key in the lock.

Quickly he made his way to the front door where he was greeted by a more than grumpy looking Wilson. Not only grumpy but drenched. Water dripped from his clothes to the floor, his hair was plastered to his head and House could hear Wilson's teeth chattering.

"Th-Thanks s-s-so much f-for p-pick-picking me u-up!" Wilson stuttered out while scowling gloomily at House.

House limped over to Wilson and started to undress him. "I forgot, sorry. Let's get you out of these clothes."

"I got that y-you forgot m-me," Wilson snarled. He batted House's fumbling hands away, "I c-can do this o-on my own."

This wasn't going to well, House thought. Nonetheless he suggested, "I'll run you a bath. Then I'm going to make dinner while you warm up. How about that?"

Wilson blinked and glanced at House with a suspicious frown but nodded. He kept on peeling himself out of his dripping clothes whereas House turned in the direction of the bathroom. House came back with two towels, laid one around Wilson's shaking shoulders, flinching at feeling Wilson's cold skin. He took the second towel to rub Wilson's hair down. He embraced the still trembling younger man and murmured, "How did you get here?"

Wilson leaned into the embrace and answered, "Cab. The driver wasn't very pleased with me though."

"Where … have you been during the thunderstorm?"

An uncontrolled shiver surged through Wilson, leading him to clutch more tightly at House. "B-Bus shelter," Wilson squeaked.

House groaned inwardly but outwardly rubbed Wilson's back in an attempt to soothe his partner. "Why didn't you go back inside the hospital?"

"C-Caught me by surprise. At first it w-was only rain and then there came the first bolt. I-I couldn't move," Wilson's voice was getting more and more high-pitched at the end.

That was the moment when House changed his seduction-plan into a "comfort-James" plan. After this experience Wilson wouldn't be up to any kind of sex anyway. Instead House foresaw vivid nightmares that would hunt Wilson during the night. He tipped Wilson's chin up with a finger and kissed him softly. The kiss was followed by House tugging at Wilson's hand and guiding him to the bathroom.

Upon entering the bathroom, Wilson smiled the first time since his arrival. He lost the towels and got into the tub, hissing when the hot water burned his skin. Soon he was warmed up and grinning with his mouth full.

"Don't eat all the pralines before dinner," House scolded but was betrayed by the smile on his face.

"Yes, Mom," Wilson saluted.

XXXXX

As House had expected Wilson only wanted to cuddle that evening. The nightmares didn't come unexpected either. During the night Wilson began to cough now and then. House didn't see much of Wilson throughout the next day but recognized that the cough was increasing. It sounded dry and forced Wilson to cough again and again. He simply couldn't get the itching scratch in his throat under control.

During the following night the coughing increased clearly and therefore the night wasn't very restorative for either man. Wilson looked downright miserable when he woke up. His face was puffy and the cough shook his body. Unsteadily he walked to the bathroom after hauling himself out of bed. The persistent coughing made him lightheaded, forcing him to steady himself with the walls or anything within his reach. He almost bumped into House who leaned against the door frame of the bathroom as he wobbled over. Irritated he scowled at House and passed. Or at least this was his intention.

House's cane came up and blocked his way. Exasperated Wilson turned to House and after another coughing fit asked hoarsely, "Is there a special reason for you trapping me in the bathroom?"

"You look like crap."

"Why thank you _so_ much," Wilson drawled. "I liked your attitude from two days ago much better."

"I'm a genius! I knew you would bring it up that it's my fault you're coughing your lungs out," House exclaimed.

"It _is_ your fault!" Wilson yelled angrily.

House was taken aback; Wilson hadn't yelled at him for … he couldn't even remember the last time. The yelling hadn't done any good for Wilson as he was now bent over, coughing and wheezing. Wilson's breathing was labored and his face red though House couldn't decide if it was from the coughing or from embarrassment. Throatily he pleaded, "Let's not argue now."

"Fine. If you don't wanna have an argument then you should call in sick," House suggested.

He still refused to lower his cane and was almost too late to grab Wilson as he ducked under his cane. Wilson yelped when House pulled him backwards by the collar of his shirt. House let go of his cane in favor of putting both hands on top of Wilson's shoulder, scowling at him darkly. "Even if you think that oncology will cease to exist without you being there, you should have enough commonsense left in that pretty head of yours to know that you can't treat any patients with this cough."

Wilson couldn't suppress the pout that formed on his face. Just to deny House the victory he replied petulantly, "I know that. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. I'll do paperwork, there's a lot of it - building skyscrapers on my desk actually."

House opened his mouth for a retort but Wilson hushed him by laying a finger on his lips. "You're better off giving in because otherwise I'm telling _everyone_ that you bought me pralines, ran me a bath and simply acted like the most wonderful _lover_ in the world two evenings ago."

Wilson smirked as he watched a light flush spreading over House's mortified features. Wilson added, "Oh, did I mention that you cooked, hung up my wet clothes and-"

"I got it! I got it! I'm never going to be nice to you again," House said grumpily.

Wilson ignored House's comment and softly whispered, "I forgot to say that you held me while I kicked and screamed because of nightmares. Thank you."

House wasn't sure which of them was more embarrassed. He cleared his throat when Wilson was shaken harshly from another cough. "If the cough gets any worse I'm dragging you out of the hospital no matter how much you claim your department is lost without you."

"Okay."

XXXXX

Through the thin wall that separates their offices House heard Wilson bark most of the time. It was beyond him how Wilson was able to do actual work. Although he knew that this wasn't the nicest thing to think he couldn't deny that all the coughing was getting on his nerves. In fact it was so annoying that he put on his headphones until it was time to have lunch.

As soon as he put the headphones down he heard Wilson coughing again. The sound had changed; now it sounded like a wet cough which seemed to bring a lot of mucus up. House got up from his recliner and just as he was going to walk over to Wilson the next coughing fit changed into the disgusting sound of retching. House wrinkled his nose in advance, shortly contemplating to pretend that he didn't know what was going on. Guilt was a strong emotion even for him so he sauntered over to Wilson's office.

He found Wilson bent over a garbage can, his face beet red, pawing at his throat and wheezing. Hastily House came over and reached out for Wilson. Unexpectedly Wilson recoiled from the touch and coughed up even more phlegm. House reached out again, loosened Wilson's tie and opened the top buttons of his shirt. He laid a hand on Wilson's forehead, feeling him burn up with fever. He retrieved Wilson's stethoscope from a shelf while Wilson wheezed his way through another coughing fit.

Wilson tried to bat House's hands away from his chest but House ignored him and finally Wilson relented. House auscultated, then withdrew the stethoscope, announcing, "That's it. You're going home. For now it's only bronchitis but we don't want you to get pneumonia."

"Don't _we_?" Wilson looked at House, still trying to catch his breath. "I'll just have to drink more, then it'll get better."

"Did I ever mention that you're an idiot whenever you get sick? Let me explain it to you; you're running a fever, you have bronchitis and the coughing has caused your voice to get hoarse. I can barely understand you. I'm going to get you some meds and then we're going home."

"I can't -"

House cut him off with a hiss, "Stop the martyr-attitude. You can either go home with me now or I admit you to the hospital."

Wilson blinked at House, laughed somewhat hysterically which provoked another coughing fit that almost led to more vomiting. Cold sweat was forming on Wilson's forehead and running down his face in small trickles. His chest heaved up and down too fast as he wasn't able to get air into his lungs as deep as he wanted to. Everything felt tight and constricted around his chest and all he wanted was to rip it open. The chills that ran up and down his spine didn't help to clear his feverish mind. Petulantly he met House's gaze and scoffed, "You can't force me into doing something I don't want. We're both adults and I know what I'm doing."

"I doubt that you know what you're doing." House bent down and loomed over Wilson, glaring at him with his darkest scowl. The attempt at intimidation worked as Wilson swallowed hard when House simply repeated, "We're going home. You better get ready."

House turned around and walked out of Wilson's office without glancing backwards. He knew that he'd won anyway. He got some Tylenol, Delsym and just in case also an inhaler with Ventolin from the pharmacy. Wilson would probably only take the Tylenol. House didn't understand Wilson's attitude towards taking medicine even if they were necessary. As if he'd become an addict just from taking some pills for a few days.

He barged into Wilson's office again, a big scowl still plastered all over his face when he discovered Wilson standing on his balcony. He was gripping the rail of his balcony so hard that his knuckles turned white, all the while gasping for air. Wilson's eyes were wide open in fear, causing House to cringe in sympathy.

"You never do anything the easy way, do you?" he grumbled.

Wilson's voice was barely understandable when he confessed, "Maybe you're right with going home. My stomach muscles hurt. And my chest. Uh, everything hurts. And … and I can't seem to get enough air into my lungs no matter how hard I try. It's making me dizzy."

"Of course I'm right," House huffed. "That was never in question. I got you some Ventolin. Want it now?"

Wilson eyed the content of House's bag critically but shook his head. "No. Not yet. I'll take some Tylenol at home and try to sleep this cold off."

House didn't believe that Wilson would get rest when the cough proceeded to be _that_ persistent. He hoped the fever wouldn't increase too much as this could mean a bacterial infection.

XXXXX

House was short of losing his temper during the ride home. Wilson could barely breathe without coughing for a minute and the sound was getting on House's nerves. But since it was somehow his fault he kept his mouth shut although his blood was boiling from all the suppressed annoyance. Inside their apartment he made Wilson some tea and got him to at least take the Tylenol. Half an hour later House was barely able to not yell at Wilson to stop this bloody coughing. Instead of yelling he took a deep breath in and suggested casually, "How about you lie down in the bedroom. You could get some rest there."

Wilson gazed at him thoughtfully out of watery eyes before he answered, "I'll do that. But you could just say that I'm annoying you."

House was caught and didn't like it one single bit. Grumpily he retorted, "You being sick is always an annoyance. So, hush, go to the bedroom so that I can watch TV in peace."

Wilson's eyes seemed to water even more but this was surely only a trick of House's imagination. He felt vaguely uncomfortable when Wilson got up without a word and walked over to their bedroom. The slamming of the door proved House's theory that Wilson wasn't pleased by his comment. At least he could watch his soap in peace now if he turned up the volume.

House did exactly that for hours. In between he got up to make himself something to eat or go to the toilet. Since Wilson didn't show up in the kitchen, although he certainly heard House clattering with the pots, he obviously wasn't hungry. Well, that was the interpretation House went with. That he couldn't eat much, the food tasted stale, or that the acting on his beloved soaps were downright horrible had nothing to do with him feeling guilty. Not at all.

House was beating a rapid staccato with his fingertips on his leg, mulling over different options to get out of this mess when it registered with him that he didn't hear Wilson barking anymore. This could either mean that he was finally asleep and his irritated bronchial tubes could get some rest or -

House hauled himself up from the sofa and hobbled over to their bedroom. Silently he opened the door and was greeted with the sight of Wilson sitting in bed, pawing frantically at his throat and gasping for air. His eyes were wide open, displaying the panic feeling of suffocating. House's eyes quickly scanned the bedroom, found the bag with the meds on Wilson's nightstand and limped over. While he prepared the inhaler he saw out of the corner of his eyes that Wilson started to hyperventilate. House feared he was going to pass out any minute and all but shoved the mouthpiece of the inhaler into Wilson's mouth.

House was shocked by Wilson's reaction as he lashed out violently. Every time House laid a hand on any body part of Wilson's he would try to bat his hand away or scoot out of reach. His lips were getting a light blue color and House lunged at Wilson. He had to muster up all his strength to hold Wilson which caused the very same to panic even more. Especially when House trapped his hands and therefore denied him access to his throat.

"James, calm down!" House shouted, slowly feeling panic rising up in him too. "I'll help you with the inhaler. Breathe in and out and in and out. After your next breath out I'll press down on the inhaler and you'll breathe in the mist. Hold your breath afterwards for a few seconds," House instructed.

It took them two attempts to be successful and after waiting for another minute they administered another puff. House held on tightly to a still struggling Wilson, feeling his own heart hammering in his chest. Wilson was drenched in cold sweat and shivering. House waited until he was sure that Wilson's airways were dilated before he got up and rummaged in his closet to find an old stethoscope. He auscultated Wilson's lungs, then helped him to change his clothes. Afterwards he stuffed a pillow behind Wilson's back and asked, "Better now?"

"Yeah." Wilson's voice sounded raucous and speaking seemed to hurt him.

"Are you hungry?" House fidgeted with the corners of the blanket. He felt terrible for his behavior earlier when it was quite clear that Wilson was really sick. An obstructive bronchitis wasn't fun for the one who suffered from it. What if he hadn't looked after Wilson exactly in the moment he did? What if -

He cut this train of thought off with a shuddering breath and abruptly stood up. Bewildered and anxious brown eyes gazed at him. House couldn't bear to look at Wilson and threw over his shoulder, "I'm brewing up some tea for you."

He did exactly this, trying to calm his frazzled nerves. He carried the tea to Wilson's nightstand and stared at a curiously looking Wilson. His head was tilted to one side, causing his hair to frame his face in the best possible way. House's heart made a violent jump at this sight and tears were brimming in his eyes. Hastily he pulled Wilson close to him. This time there was no struggle. To the contrary – Wilson yielded and rested his head against House's chest. His arms encircled House around the waist, holding on tightly. House petted Wilson's back while he rubbed his nose into Wilson's hair, inhaling his scent deeply.

"I'm sorry," he choked out. Wilson's response was to tighten the grip around House's waist which was more than enough for House right then.

XXXXX

Wilson had to use the inhaler and also a cough suppressant for a few days and nights and House kept to watch over Wilson closely. So closely that Wilson feared losing his mind within the next few days. He was used to House being obsessive about him just not in the way of taking care of him like an overprotective lioness. When Wilson eventually got the green light to go back to work after two weeks he sighed in relief. Before they left the apartment House inspected Wilson's clothes and personally began to wrap a scarf around Wilson's throat.

"House," Wilson scoffed exasperatedly while trying to sidestep House. "It is _May_! I don't need a scarf."

Unceremoniously he got pulled back and no matter how much he struggled or argued House's hands were still all over him and wrapping the scarf around him. He yelped when House grabbed some strands of his hair, forcing him to keep still. Finally Wilson gave in to the inevitable and allowed House to do as he pleased.

"You're worse than my Mom," Wilson commented while patting his hair back in order.

"I just don't like it when you're sick. It's jumbling up my daily routine," House grumbled.

Wilson rolled his eyes and took a sharp breath in. This caused him to cough rather violently which in turn caused House to unwrap the scarf. Irritated Wilson asked, "Uh, House?"

House was already unbuttoning Wilson's coat when he answered, "You're not fit enough. We'll better keep you home for a few more days."

"No! No!" Wilson squeaked in despair. More days with House taking care of him would surely end in something very unpleasant. "I'm fine. Seriously! House, knock it off."

House scowled at him. "You're always fine. Even when you can't get enough oxygen into your lungs. I _do_ know that you just want to get me off your back."

Wilson felt his face flushing and sighed. He closed the gap between them and loosely embraced House before he tittered, "You're so sweet when you care about people."

Wilson's blush got a twin on House's face as he grumbled, "I don't care about _people_." His face softened when he lost himself in twinkling brown eyes and admitted, "I care about _you_."

END

8


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